


we'll be going

by d0ng_y0ung (justawks)



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Brotherhood, Found Family, Gen, Illnesses, Injury, handwaves at worldbuilding, no zombies, uhh, very vague apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justawks/pseuds/d0ng_y0ung
Summary: It was Schrodinger's survival, a waking nightmare. Yeonjun was perfectly fine, trapped on the other side of the scorched woods, biding his time until he could cross and they could be reunited. Yeonjun was done in, perished in the roaring flames without another soul in sight to comfort him as he left this hellscape behind.or, it's the end of the world, baby!
Kudos: 4





	1. every night without a sound

**Author's Note:**

> taehyun crop top, yeonjun pink mullet, yeehaw txt, need I go on? blue hour slaps and so I wrote this. I think TXT are neat and I wanted to make them a little sad just for kicks. 
> 
> Rated T for injuries, illness, and an ambiguously apocalyptic setting (ft. mentions of apocalypse-related food insecurity). Disclaimer that this is not, like, a well-thought-out commentary on COVID-19 or the experience of young people in the wake of governmental incompetence during a crisis (for reference, I am American). This is just subtle whump for my kpop boys because it's fun. 
> 
> The rest of this is mapped out but not yet written, so..we'll see. This will be complete by the new year for sure!
> 
> Enjoy! xo

Soobin wakes to fire.

It takes him a few moments to register that the heat and the dancing lights are real and not a figment of his imagination. The heat blurs the trees above him, gives them a dreamlike quality where everything is colors instead of shapes. Flecks of flaming leaves sting as they land on his bare arms and neck, and tell him that _yes_ , this wall of flame is real. It surrounds their group entirely, blocking them into their makeshift campsite—an impassable barrier pressing in on all sides.

He sits up quickly, the threadbare jacket-turned-blanket that had been thrown across his chest pooling in his lap. The grass beneath his palms is damp, as though the forest itself is sweating in the heat.

Now fully awake, Soobin can see the full extent of the fire; there doesn't seem to be a single tree in the young forest left unscathed, and flaming debris rains down from the thick cloud of smoke that blocks out the sky. Soobin thinks it's night but he can't be sure; sleep has never come easy for him, a problem which the end of the world has not resolved—he doesn't know when he fell asleep the night before, or how long he had slept before this unceremonious waking.

There's a cry to his left, startling him. He looks and finds Beomgyu scrambling away from his flaming blanket, travel-worn backpack thankfully clutched safely in his grip. His other hand grasps his left shoulder, and even from across their little star of sleeping spots Soobin can see the way his dark hoodie has burned away, leaving the waxy sheen of a burn across his shoulder in its wake. 

"Beomgyu!" he yells through the din. The fire seems to be stronger to the west of their campsite, as though pushing them to the east. Soobin stands, takes a moment to don his jacket and grab the roll of fabric he'd been using as a pillow. "This way!" he yells desperately to the younger, mind full of thoughts of _get out, get away_. It is only due to the weeks they've spent in each other's company that he's able to feel Beomgyu's presence behind him, the terrible flames blocking out his usual senses.

The forest plays a vicious game of tag as they are guided by the flames. Turn left, dodge a falling tree, turn right, leap over the flames swallowing the ground, repeat. Time bends and blurs as Soobin runs. 

Fear pulses through him in an unpleasantly familiar way and artificial cold rolls down the back of his neck as he's caught between the moment and memories. _Crowds, rushing and pushing against him, beating him back and down. Sounds, yells and shouts, drilling against his eardrums until it all melts together. This is the end of the world, Soobin. This is the end._

He comes back into his body as his arm glances against a burning tree as it falls across his path. He doesn't let himself feel the pain, just pivots to the right before continuing his desperate motion forward. He's distantly aware that Beomgyu is no longer behind him, but it feels as though even his _eyes_ are sweating in the heat. Some ancient terror wells inside him.

(The memory comes unprompted, but he remembers gym class in middle school. On warm days in early spring, the class was spent on the track, running short relays and playing Catch-Up on the worn red and white rubber. Soobin recalls the way some kids always ran like their lives depended on it, like they'd had more than enough practice fleeing whatever monsters chased after them. Where were those kids now? Would they call this good riddance for the way he'd side-eyed their secondhand sneakers and convenience store lunches? Does the end of the world erase your past regrets?)

Soobin feels himself burst through the edge of the tree line out onto the grassy shoulder of a gravel road. The chill of the night air pushes past him as if to contain the flames within the woods, and Soobin feels palpable relief as his skin cools. His long limbs, rendered thin and clumsy with a few too many days without a good meal, crumble beneath him; his palms and kneecaps meet the gravel with a familiar crunch. The pinch against his skin brings him back to himself—he looks up, side to side, and there's one, there's two, but—"Where's Kai? Yeonjun-hyung?"

Beomgyu and Taehyun look worse for wear, crumpled together in the tall grass on the far side of the gravel. Beomgyu is pointedly not looking at his shoulder, but even from a distance Soobin can make out the way his knuckles are clenched white in Taehyun's knit sweater. "Tae?" Soobin queries, as though the other two will materialize with a snap of the younger's magic fingers. Taehyun can only offer a wide-eyed shrug.

Soobin turns to sit, back to the younger boys and face to the flames. "Kai!" he yells, the sound swallowed by the roar of the fire even as it grates against his throat and leaves it sore. "Yeonjun-hyung!" The flames are so _loud_ and the heat is physical; it's a wall, a barrier, and he feels panic welling at the thought that they are trapped inside, that he's lost them, that he's failed.

He's about to blindly charge back into the flames, rationality be damned, when impossibly-beautifully- _magically_ he hears a familiar "hyung!" called from down the road to his left. 

He turns his head to see Kai, the youngest's angelic face marred with something dark. Still, he is miraculously there, moving towards them of his own accord. Relief crashes through Soobin's body like a wave. His limbs go weak again and he finds himself flat on his back in the gravel, gasping between the cool of the night and the heat of the forest.

(The stars are bright above him in the way they can only be at the end of the world. There are so many stars, keeping them company, bearing witness to the madness.)

Kai's face appears above him. "Yeonjun-hyung?" Soobin asks, question incomplete but understood nonetheless. Kai jerks his head left to right, brow furrowed.

"We ran the other way. He saw a path out, I think." He pauses to cough painfully. "There was a big tree falling, he pushed me out of the way. I think he ran off in another direction, but I couldn't see, and it was so dark and—" His voice breaks on the smoke in the air.

Soobin sits, then stands, pulling Kai over to where Taehyun and Beomgyu are huddled together. He crouches down, draws the younger close against his side. The flames cast a warm glow over everything around them.

"It's okay, Kai-ah, it's okay," Soobin soothes. "We'll just set up camp here for a little bit until he comes and finds us. I'm sure he found another way out. We'll just wait here."

Soobin nods to himself, looking at each of these precious boys. "It'll all work out, you'll see."

He sets himself to work right away, eager for something to occupy his mind. With the exception of Kai, the other three had managed to grab their packs so they're not totally without supplies. Soobin has some relatively fresh gauze wraps and a few extra layers of clothing in his cloth bundle; he carefully wraps Beomgyu's shoulder and gently dresses him in a thick flannel. The younger is shaking with a combination of cold, pain, and the post-adrenaline drop; Soobin leaves him bundled in Taehyun's lap to consider any other supplies that might be useful. Thankfully, the dying fire keeps away most of the chill of the night.

Despite the fact that Soobin typically acts as the "leader" of their rag-tag group in situations when it's important to have a designated spokesperson, he can admit to himself that most of their decisions are made collectively. What supplies to gather, which direction to travel next, when to join in with a passing caravan and when to stick to the shadows until the roads are empty once more—everyone has a say in these things. They consider all their options, weigh both positives and negatives, and go from there as a team.

Unfortunately, it only takes about half a day before it becomes obvious that they only have one viable choice in this situation.

Their supplies had already been running low as it had been a few weeks since they had last stopped at an encampment to refuel and restock, and the majority of what remained had been in Yeonjun and Kai's missing packs. Normally they might be fine for a few days with the things that remained—crushed caramel-flavored puffed rice cakes, some dried apple, some questionably preserved tea eggs, and two unopened bottles of water—but Beomgyu and Soobin both had relatively large burns that sapped their energy and limited their movements. Soobin's burn was mostly superficial, thankfully, as his jacket had taken the brunt of the flames, but Beomgyu's left shoulder blade was almost completely ruined; his wound was waxy and red and oozing some sort of fluid through the gauze. It was clearly painful, too, and Beomgyu was unable to rest comfortably without being held carefully in someone's lap. Their middle member was also becoming increasingly loopy as early morning gave way to midday gave way to afternoon. The others helped guide a rice cake and one of their precious fever-reducing tablets down his throat with a splash of water, but it did little to alleviate his discomfort or staunch the rising flush of his cheeks. 

The youngest two were clearly terrified, too, with Kai in particular almost unable to look away from the charred, smoldering woods. The absence of their oldest gnawed against their already empty stomachs like an ache, and Soobin worried endlessly over his inability to provide an answer either way. (Uncertainty had always chaffed him; here, at the end of the world, uncertainly spelled nothing but disaster.)

It was Schrodinger's survival, a waking nightmare. Yeonjun was perfectly fine, trapped on the other side of the scorched woods, biding his time until he could cross and they could be reunited. Yeonjun was done in, perished in the roaring flames without another soul in sight to comfort him as he left this hellscape behind for something better.

Soobin knew they were within a long day's travel on foot of what had once been a small town. The group had suspected it had become an encampment in the wake of the end of the world; that's where they had been heading, although they had certainly planned for more time to scope things out before they waltzed their way in. Experience had taught them there was a way to do these things, a way to signal you were a friend and not foe before you made your requests.

Now, though, it appeared there was nothing else they could do other than hope the encampment had some medical supplies and food to spare—and would consider them friends. There was no way Beomgyu could walk anywhere on his own as his fever worsened, and the food they did have would hardly sustain the other three long enough to carry him. The longer they waited the more dire things would be. It left little choice—Soobin would have to go alone and bring back help if help was to be had.

"Guys, I—" he begins. He swallows, tries again. "I think I need to go on ahead and get some supplies, bring them back here. There's no way we can keep moving like this, and Beomgyu doesn't...look so good."

"I can come with you, hyung" Kai immediately offers, but Soobin shakes his head.

"You need to stay here." He takes a breath. "In case I don't come back within a few days, you need to stay. Someone else needs to be here to look for help, and we can't leave Beomgyu alone if that happens. Plus I can move faster on my own."

The younger boys nod nervously, reluctant to agree. "Okay, hyung," Taehyun offers tentatively. "That makes sense."

Kai nods again, echoing his agreement in a weak voice. Beomgyu is barely conscious—Soobin chooses to believe he would agree with this course of action.

Soobin hardly takes anything with him, conscious that if he doesn't manage to make his way back to the group it will be as good as throwing away their hard-earned supplies. He's in a t-shirt and his denim jacket, upper arm wrapped with a short piece of gauze to help protect the superficial burn from rubbing against the threadbare denim. He pockets a handful of the dried apple and takes a swig of the water, but can't bear to take any other provisions.

He offers gentle pats to the shoulders and heads of the three younger boys, desperate to pretend things are fine and good. He hasn't been apart from them since their little family of five had gathered together months ago. He hasn't been _alone_ since then, either. The empty stretch of road before him is eerie in its stillness; Soobin keenly feels the way he is only a small fraction of life out here.

He takes one step, then another, then the road is passing quickly beneath him. He is stuck in his mind, circling between horrifying images of Yeonjun's burned body and imagining the relief of a warm meal and a sip of water. He hums songs to himself, Top 40 hits from his last regular school year before the world began to end mixed in with the 80s trot his father had preferred to listen to on Saturday nights. He does simple addition problems, too, and tries to count his steps. Anything to keep his mind occupied away from those dark, dangerous thoughts of _too late-nothing to be done-alone-alone-ALONE_ —

He follows the gravel road for maybe five miles before taking a right at a long-abandoned intersection, grateful that the Spring weather keeps the conditions tolerable. There is something soothing about the silence and stillness around him, different from the bustle of the city he had been raised in or the chaos of those first few weeks of disaster. The evening turns to night turns back to the morning, and onward he walks.

Finally, blessedly, the village appears on the horizon before him. 

It is small and tidy, even from a distance. It probably would have been labeled 'quaint' before everything changed. Two neat rows of structures line the road on either side. The empty shell of a gas station at the edge of the town has clearly been repurposed as a gate, of sorts. Wooden planks and barbed wire cross the two-lane road from the far wall of the gas station shop to the front wall of the house across the way.

As Soobin draws closer, a line of figures file out through the gas station side door from behind the barrier. They form a half-circle across the road with practiced ease. They have clearly been sent to assess whether he is a threat, but Soobin is so glad to see them he can hardly remember to approach cautiously and do his best to look non-threatening. Despite his potentially imposing height, Soobin knows the end of the world has not been kind to him—he does not cut an intimidating figure, not least of all after a half-day of continuous walking with minor injuries and on a mostly-empty stomach.

A broad man steps forward from the group of adults. He's maybe half a foot shorter than Soobin, but he has a surprising amount of muscle on his frame and a scowl on his weather-worn face. "How can we help you?" he asks. 

Soobin comes to a stop and hesitates for only a moment before his legs make the decision for him. The next thing he knows he's down on his knees, forehead bowing close to the dirt beneath him. "I'm traveling with a group of other boys," he begins. "There was a fire about a day ago near our campsite and one of my friends was badly burned. He needs help."

Soobin pauses, feeling the warmth of the loose earth beneath him, letting it cradle his forehead. "Can you spare any supplies? We've given him some medicine but it didn't help the fever, and we didn't have anything to clean the burn."

Soobin can feel the words catch in his throat, unsure how to make these people understand. How to make them help him, help his friends. 

"What's your name, boy?" the gruff man asks. 

"Choi Soobin, sir," he offers back. "Please," he adds, unsure what else to say. "He'll—" his voice cracks on the thought. "I think he'll die if you don't help us."

Someone above him hums. Soobin racks his brain for something else to say, something to convince them. He sits straight, legs folded neatly underneath him. "We don't have much to trade, but we can help around here once he's okay. Help build or move things. Whatever you need," he pleads.

The group pulls away, discussing among themselves. Soobin lets their murmurs become background noise. He is tired, so tired, and he doesn't want to think about what he'll do if they turn him away.

An older woman with a kind face approaches, soft smile on her wrinkled face. Soobin feels his eyes unfocus as he watches her come closer. She reaches out one hand, then two, helping him rise to his feet once more.

"We'll help you out, Soobin. We can send some folks with a handcart to bring them back. Do you have many supplies?"

Soobin shakes his head too quickly, vision swimming at the fast movement. "Thank you! Thank you. No, not too many supplies. Just what we could carry. Thank you."

The worlds tumble out of his mouth. "I can show you, take you, it isn't far," he begins, but the woman is shushing him with another soft smile.

"You, Soobin, will rest here. We saw the smoke yesterday morning. We'll be able to find your friends. They're just off the road?"

Soobin nods again, opens his mouth to try and protest at being left behind, but the last few days (and last few weeks, and last few months) catch up with him all at once. He finds himself staggering, only keeping upright by virtue of the woman grasping tight to his hands.

"Oh dear," the woman offers at his instability, taking his arm and slinging it across her shoulder as someone else approaches and does the same on his other side. They help him hobble forwards and through the gas-station-turned-gate until they reach the threshold of a small home. The door is opened by someone inside, but Soobin is so focused on lifting his feet enough to manage the threshold that he doesn't quite catch a glimpse of them. He's led into a small bedroom and gently deposited on a bed.

"Why don't you rest here while we go get your friends, dear? It'll be a day or so, most likely, so just sleep for now."

Soobin feels himself be laid back against soft pillows and covered gently with a blanket. He tries to nod, wants to thank her profusely, but finds things fading to black before he can open his mouth.

Gone to the rest of the world, Soobin rests.


	2. as far away as one can go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beomgyu was always animated and smiling, a counterpoint to the naivete of their youngest and cynicism of their oldest. He had filled even their darkest moments with the bright possibilities of the future; it is jarring and awful to see him so dimmed.

This time, Soobin wakes to the feeling of arms circling his waist. He is warm, so pleasantly warm, and the bed is soft beneath him.

His mind comes back slowly. He floats in the in-between—somewhere beyond asleep but before awake—for what feels like hours. Gradually, he becomes aware of the way his arms are being pinned down by weight across his chest and hips. Sensation returns to his body, and he feels the deep stiffness in his joints and the aching bruises on his knees.

(Dropped to the gravel, again and again. Dropped to the soft dirt outside the gates. _The gates._ )

Soobin's eyes blink open, cautious of the bright light he can sense beyond his eyelids. He squints, looks down his nose to see the top of two heads resting on his chest, a bowed leg thrown across his hips. He squeezes his arms in, a reflex at realizing that he isn't alone in the bed, and feels the bodies on either side of him begin to stir.

Kai lies across his right side, leg slung across Soobin's front. The youngest is fully awake first, blinking sleep out of his eyes before sitting up sharply. There is an exuberant expression on his face when he recognizes that Soobin is blinking back at him.

"Hyung, you're awake!" he all but yells, voice echoing from the corners of the mostly empty room.

This pulls Taehyun fully out of sleep. He nuzzles deeper into the space between Soobin's neck and shoulder, mumbling something about "too loud, Kai-ah." But then he stiffens too, craning his neck up to look wide-eyed at Soobin's face. "Hyung?" he whispers.

Soobin tries to offer them both a smile. It feels watery and weak, muscles still waking up after a heavy sleep and the trials of the past few days. "Hey, kiddos," he croaks out. "Glad to see you made it."

The boys dive back down into a hug at the same moment, knocking the breath from his lungs with the force of their weight. Taehyun whispers another "Hyung," this one far more certain, as the three boys relish in their shared presence.

The relief at seeing them again is a physical sensation, rolling from the top of Soobin's head down to the tips of his toes. The aches and pains from the last 48 hours fade to the background as he lets his jaw unclench as their unblemished faces looking guilelessly up at him from the pillow of his chest.

But then the terror returns.

"Where's Beomgyu?"

The younger boys both hold themselves still. Taehyun blinks thickly, letting something dark and uncertain slip into his expression. "They've put him in the house next door. I think they've been using it as the doctor's office. We wanted to stay with him but there wasn't a lot of room, and we wanted to see you too."

"It was far," Kai says in a small voice. "It was hard for him to get here."

Again, Soobin feels relief pulse through his body. It's mixed with something heavy and sour—guilt, maybe.

The three boys settle into silence, leaning against one another as their eyes unfocus. It feels odd; Soobin had spent so many years of his life mostly alone, the byproduct of being a quiet child and much younger than his siblings. But he hasn't been apart from these boys since they first found each other, hasn't felt that same satisfaction at being alone ever since.

It is with great effort that Soobin eventually rises, stomach protesting at being too empty for too long. He shuffles out of the bedroom cautiously, Kai and Taehyun hovering anxiously at his heels, and finds the older woman from his arrival sitting on a threadbare armchair in the living room. She offers him a warm smile and ushers him into a seat while she gets him a glass of water.

She hands him the tall glass with a gentle expression on her face. "Drink up. Once you're done, I'll take you to see your friend."

+++

The structure is another repurposed house, paint faded and wood worn. There is a red cross above the threshold—an official designation.

Beomgyu is in the front bedroom. He looks small and weak and fragile, tucked in warmly underneath a handmade quilt that has seen better days. His face is pale and clammy, and the slackness of his expression in sleep is terrifying. Beomgyu was always animated and smiling, a counterpoint to the naivete of their youngest and cynicism of their oldest. He had filled even their darkest moments with the bright possibilities of the future; it is jarring and awful to see him so dimmed.

Soobin sits quietly at Beomgyu's bedside, Kai and Taehyun framing each shoulder from behind, and tries to will the boy back into good health. The steady rise and fall of his chest is a welcome sight, but sometimes his brows will furrow in his sleep as though in pain. Soobin feels achingly inadequate, feels his former status as the youngest child bear down upon him. _How do you take care of someone?_

(Yeonjun would know, he can't help but think.)

The three boys find themselves back in a familiar position after a quick meal and frankly insufficient tour of the property. Soobin was still a little weak in the knees, and both Kai and Taehyun were feeling the impact of the past few days (weeks, _months_ ) of stress. Soobin lays down first, joints stiff. The younger two follow, picking their way carefully around his limbs.

There is silence for many moments, so much so that Soobin feels his lids begin to droop with sleep. He must make a sound, some sort of signal that he's about to pass out, because Kai speaks up softly—as though hoping he won't hear after all.

"Hyung, when they showed up in the distance, I didn't know what to think. And you weren't with them. We thought you'd be with them."

Soobin tightens his arms around them, hopes they feel the apology in the movement. There'd been no conscious decision there, just his desperation to rest and a gentle voice assuring him it was fine. He feels the guilt like a chill, to think of how easily he had given in. Peacefully sleeping while his younger brothers agonized over Beomgyu's fate.

There's another pause, before Taehyun voices what Soobin thinks they've all been asking themselves, quietly as though not to disturb the night.

"Do you think he's okay, Soobin-hyung?"

Soobin has nothing to offer. "I don't know, Taehyun. I hope he is. I really hope so."

There's no question about who he is referring to— _he_ , their fearless leader, their precious oldest, is lost somewhere out there. Maybe lost forever. The chaos of that night has turned Soobin's memories into a bottomless void. _What had happened? How had he himself gotten out of the burning woods?_ It has only been a few days and he can hardly remember.

Mind swirling, Soobin drops off to sleep.

+++

Despite Soobin's concerns, the little hamlet community welcomes them with open arms. They are the youngest there by a few decades at least, and it's clear that the adults appreciate seeing young, smiling faces. They are always pinching cheeks and cooing at their appetites. It is a welcome change, the sort of tenderness Soobin knows neither he nor the younger boys have experienced since the world fell apart.

Blessedly, they are particularly doting to Beomgyu. They freely offer what little medical supplies they have, washing his burn gently with stinging hydrogen peroxide and offering warm broths and mostly clean water to keep up his strength.

They've been there a week, helping chop wood and tend to the garden and tidy the supply shed, when the older woman whose home they are occupying, Sori, sits across from Soobin at dinner and says she wants to talk. She offers him a gentle smile as she begins.

"You seem close, all four of you. It's sweet. I'm glad you have each other."

Soobin nods, feels his face twist into something awful. He hasn't been putting a voice to things, afraid that it will turn his fears to reality. But he can't ignore the gaping hole—doesn't think it has escaped the notice of the folks here either. He might lead the boys well, but he's used to deferring to an older friend, to an authority ordained by nothing but time. Without him, Soobin feels adrift.

"Ah, yes. I'm very glad we all met. It was difficult being alone, before."

Sori nods, eyes gentle in that way Soobin recognizes from his childhood. "I'm sure it was very hard to do things alone. And so young! It's wonderful you don't have to do that anymore."

Soobin nods, unsure what she wants him to say. This feels like his moment to voice them, his worries.

"There's actually...there were five of us. One more, the oldest. We got...separated, I think, during the fire. We're not quite sure where he ended up."

The statement is as neutral as he can make it, and even as he speaks he feels the phantom pain of Yeonjun's absence well in his chest. The implication is clear, and he watches as Sori's expression goes softer still with pity.

"I thought that might be the case. You all have something sad about you, moreso than usual with the way things are going." She pauses for a moment. "You know, there are encampments and settlements all over the area. He may have found someone else just like you found us."

Soobin nods. What a nice thought. "I hope so. It was...the fire was intense, and it was the middle of the night. We really don't know what happened."

+++

"Soobin, dear, he's not getting better," Sori says after another week has passed.

Soobin nods, because this is undeniably true. Beomgyu sleeps far more than he is awake, and he never quite seems to know where he is or what is going on. The skin around his burn is flushed an angry red with infection and his fever spikes and drops almost daily.

Sori speaks again. "There isn't much more we can do for him." 

Soobin nods again, and this time it is with great effort. It is hard to be mad because she sounds so apologetic as she says it. She has been nothing but kind to them. He is grateful she sent the younger boys away with a project in the garden before she raised this topic, does not know how he would handle the devastation on their faces. He stands on the precipice of a pit of despair, of failure. _What will the younger boys say? What will Yeon—_

He thinks he might be shaking, and Sori is looking at him with familiar eyes of concern. She places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes tightly.

"You're not listening to me, Soobin. There's not much more _we_ can do for him. He's not hopeless, just sick. You'll need to go somewhere with better resources, more supplies. Better medicines."

Soobin nods a third time, quiet with disbelief.

"Go get the younger boys and explain. We'll get you packed up and ready. You can leave tomorrow if you'd like."

+++

It is at least a few days traveling, especially with Beomgyu in the handcart. He is conscious and aware, but still weak and feverish. The cart is padded with as many pillows and blankets as the hamlet could spare; Beomgyu is always chilled even as Spring begins to give way to the warmth of Summer.

Soobin tries to take turns with Mr. Lee carrying the cart, but months of steady meals and light labor have built the older man a stronger body than Soobin's thin, lanky limbs. Instead, he walks alongside the cart with the younger boys, entertaining Beomgyu when he wakes and letting Taehyun and Kai babble and bicker softly while he sleeps.

Country roads give way to abandoned freeways, and the miles pass more easily with the even terrain and more-frequent road signs. They're headed towards what had been a medium-sized town sustained by the agriculture in the area. Mr. Lee reveals that the hamlet has been making somewhat frequent ventures to the town for supplies that are impossible to grow or fashion on their own—soaps, building tools, fuel for the rarely-used propane grill they keep in case of emergency.

Soobin can tell they are getting close before Mr. Lee says anything. The fields that had framed the freeways give way to ghostly old housing developments. The taller buildings of the abandoned downtown rise from the horizon in front of them like a mountain.

Much like the hamlet, this town has chosen to fortify its makeshift borders. Here it begins at the line of tollbooths that had signaled the way out of town. Chainlink fences and wooden planks are strung together across the multi-lane highway, corraling the small group towards the single still-operating booth. As they grow nearer, a tall man in heavy work boots and a grey sweatshirt steps out to greet them.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lee! We weren't expecting you for a few more weeks still," the man offers with a welcoming smile.

Hello, Joohyuk! I'm not here for supplies this time, actually. We've had some guests these past few weeks, but it's time for them to be moving on. Has word of the fire earlier this month gotten here?"

"Ah, a few weeks ago, was it? Just north of here?" Joohyuk asks. "We could see the smoke from miles away! We've been having folks trickle in ever since—seems like a lot of people got caught up in the flames."

He casts his eyes over Soobin, over Kai, over Taehyun, over Beomgyu—still fitfully asleep in the handcart, bandaged shoulder peeking out over the top of the quilt. "Ahh, I see," he says softly. "Looks like you folks got caught, too."

He steps back, holding the makeshift barrier so they can cross the threshold with the handcart.

Once across the barrier, the whole town is visible before them. It's more people than Soobin has seen in one place for months, at least. Children playing with a dusty ball over to their left, a central area filled with picnic tables and benches to accommodate the crowds at mealtimes, and the sharply rising blocks of repurposed apartment and office buildings to their right. The man who let the in, Joohyuk, offers to give them a tour once they've settled in.

"I'm thinking you folks will want to see a nurse first, though. Follow me."

Mr. Lee leads the younger boys off in the direction of the sleeping quarters, saying he'll get them settled with open bunks before coming back to find the other two boys.

Beomgyu is still asleep so Soobin agrees to accompany Joohyuk over to the infirmary— _and they have a proper infirmary, have supplies and food and a surplus of things, it is obvious even after a quick glance around_. Between the two of them, they manage to get the cart across the main square and down a block to the entrance to the makeshift infirmary.

It is clear people know about their arrival because a smiling young nurse comes out to meet them. The nurse introduces himself as Namshik, gesturing wildly as they walk down the winding halls of the infirmary. They arrive at an empty room and push Beomgyu inside.

Soobin is asked to wake him, which he does as gently as possible. The sleep seems to have done Beomgyu some good, as he is more alert than Soobin has seen him in a while, although clearly still in pain. The transfer from handcart to clinic bed is relatively smooth between the three of them, given how small and thin Beomgyu has grown over the past few weeks.

Namshik tuts over the state of Beomgyu's burn but seems happy to see him conscious and present. He has the younger boy swallow an antibiotic tablet with a glass of water as well as a pill for the pain before he goes about cleaning the cracked, healing skin. Beomgyu pointedly makes eye contact with Soobin as it is happening, and Soobin finds himself retelling some silly memory to distract the younger.

Once his arm is properly cleaned and bandaged, the combination of proper pain medication and the excitement of the day seems to kick in. Namshik quietly exits to check on some other patients as Beomgyu drops off into a deep sleep, leaving Soobin sitting alone in the quiet, sterile room. The relief at the positive prognosis and the evidence of legitimate resources is a weight off his shoulders—all the technicalities of where they will stay, where they will go after this, how they will ever be able to repay these people for their kindness...those are issues for Soobin of the future.

For now, Soobin sits calmly in the stillness of the room, listening to the comforting puffs of breath the sleeping Beomgyu lets out. A few minutes pass and Mr. Lee is at the door, ushering Soobin to follow him to the open bunks he's found for the three boys. He nods, standing and shaking the sleepiness out of his limbs before following the older man out into the hallway.

He's shutting the door softly behind him, waiting for the telltale sound of a latch, when someone enters the small hallway to the left of them. Soobin is slow to react, mind already occupied by the thought of laying down, but then he hears a sharp intake of breath, familiar enough that it sets something up the back of his neck.

He hears his name whispered softly into the quiet.

_"Soobin?"_

It can't be. It's a fantasy, a figment of his imagination, an experience borne of desperation and consuming relief.

If he turns, there will be nothing but empty air, nothing but bitter disappointment.

Still, he turns to look.


End file.
